


Man of Steel

by sariane



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fisting, Humor, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, terrible sexting, the plot is the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man of Steel

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Человек из стали](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099954) by [fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017/pseuds/fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017), [JakeJensen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JakeJensen/pseuds/JakeJensen), [Magdalena_sylar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magdalena_sylar/pseuds/Magdalena_sylar)



> I wrote this with 616 comicsverse in mind, but it works for the movies as well. Also? I regret nothing.
> 
> Thanks to _A_ for the encouragement. I’m so sorry. I do regret everything.
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Light canon-typical type violence  
> -Explicit sex. Of course.  
> -Swearing

It comes out of nowhere.

Bucky is straddling Steve on the bed, their hips moving together as he runs his hands down Steve's chest, the two of them rutting against each other. They're chasing friction and skin, Bucky drinking in the sight below him. Steve groans, his head thrown back on the sheets, eyes screwed half shut. He's a dream, muscles rippling under the touch of Bucky's fingers, his lips swollen red from biting kisses, hickeys fading on his neck.

Bucky wraps his right hand around Steve's cock. Steve lets out a loud, shaking groan as Bucky pumps his hand up and down at a pace that's purposefully slow.

With a smirk, Bucky leans down to kiss Steve. He pulls away to nip at his ear, whispering, "What do you want me to do, Steve? I'll do anything, I'll do anything, tell me what you want," in a breathless litany.

"I want – I want," Steve pants disjointedly. Bucky's still stroking Steve’s dick with one hand and his cheek with the other, teasing his lips with a finger. Bucky straightens up and kneels over Steve, brushing a metal thumb over his wet lips and grinning mischievously at Steve.

"What do you want, pal?" Bucky says, voice low in his throat. "Spit it out already."

Steve's eyes snap open. Fixing Bucky with a look, he clears his throat.

_Oh, no_ , Bucky thinks.

"I want your fist," Steve says levelly. "The metal one, inside me. All of it."

Bucky almost falls off the bed.

*

Needless to say, they don't go that far that night.

No – by the time Bucky gets his head back, Steve's lying next to him, stroking his hair and looking somewhat concerned.

"Are you alright?" Steve asks.

"Yeah," Bucky says, voice hoarse and wrecked. He thinks he may have yelled. Screamed, actually. "I haven't come that hard in…yeah. Alright."

Steve's concern quickly changes to amusement. "I barely even touched you," he says. Bucky blinks, coming back to himself a little.

"Yeah, well," he says, rolling over onto his back. "That was. Something."

"Was it something I said?" Steve asks faux-innocently. When Bucky looks over at him, he's lying on his side with his head propped up on a hand, smirking.

"Steve," Bucky says, reading the look in his eye. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious," Steve says with a chuckle. "What, you've never thought about it before?"

"The hand…" Bucky trails off, shaking his head. "It's not made for that."

"I should hope not," Steve jokes. Bucky scowls at him.

"The metal's hard," he says. "It's cold. And it's bigger than a normal hand. Bulkier."

"That's what you said about your dick; but if I recall correctly, we had nothing to fear," Steve smirks.

"You're an asshole," Bucky laughs.

"Okay, back to the topic of my asshole," Steve says. "Your hand. What do you say?"

"Jesus," Bucky says, and has to lay back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't think he could get it up again _this_ quick. "If you keep talking like that…"

"Don't tell me you've never thought about it," Steve says, crawling up the bed and lying next to Bucky. "Haven't you fingered yourself with that hand before?"

"Some," Bucky shrugs. "It’s cold, though, and lube's a bitch to get out of the joints."

"It'd be worth it," Steve says.

"Could you take it?" Bucky asks, looking down at his hand and balking a little, thinking about it. _Fuck_ , he thinks, going a little breathless at the mental picture.

He turns to look at Steve, who's raising an eyebrow at him in obvious offense.

_Shit._ Now he's done it.

"We'll talk about it," he promises Steve, reaching over to cup his jaw and pull him in for a kiss.

*

Of course, they're busy as hell. Steve always is – he has the Avengers to lead, Tony Stark to argue with, countless meetings, and whatever else he does. Bucky has his stuff, too, and he ends up leaving for two weeks on some mission of Fury's that he probably shouldn't have taken.

No, scratch that, a mission he _definitely_ shouldn't have taken. He's trapped in an underground base, shooting at robots and weird mutated lizards or something. He called for backup _hours_ ago.

Bucky grunts as one of the lizards jumps up onto the balcony where he's hiding. He shoots it, but it doesn't go down.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says as the lizard scuttles towards him – on its robotic arms. The weird mutated lizards are now weird mutated _cyborg_ lizards _._ A lot can happen in a couple of hours, he figures.

He raises his gun and fires off a volley, shooting out the tech before he goes for the biological parts. The lizard is almost upon him when something hits it, throwing it onto its back.

It's Cap's shield.

"About time," Bucky grunts, wondering why Fury sent Steve – not that he's complaining.

"Can't you keep yourself out of trouble for five minutes?" Cap says, swinging himself up onto the balcony by the railing. He retrieves his shield and uses it to smash the lizard cyborg's motherboard, deactivating it.

"Nice to see you too," Bucky says pleasantly, getting to his feet. He turns to the bunker below, sneaking a peak outside of his cover. Half of the lizard-cyborgs are lying on the floor with arrows in their heads.

"Barton?" he asks with a resigned sigh.

"Someone had to come save your sorry ass," Clint snorts, appearing behind him. "We came up through the control room; this place is ready to blow on self-destruct. Let's get out of here."

Cap nods and sends Hawkeye first to cover them as they drop from the balcony and head towards a side tunnel that leads to the surface. Cap takes out a few more of the lizard-cyborgs that get in their way. Bucky covers his six as they retreat.

"So," Steve starts, after sealing themselves away in the tunnel. Their boots splash as they run towards the surface, trailing behind Barton. "Haven't seen you in a few weeks."

"You gonna ask me how I'm doing?" Bucky asks with a snort. "Fine, except for the mutant lizard bastards on my tail. How about you?"

"Been busy," Steve says levelly. "Remember the last night we had to ourselves?" he asks.

Bucky's pace stutters for a minute, until he has to sprint to catch up with Steve. "How could I forget?" he mutters to himself.

"You said we would talk about it," Steve says.

"Is _now_ the best time?" Bucky replies in disbelief.

"Well, we haven't exactly seen much of each other lately," Steve says. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately," he says in a low voice.

_So have I,_ Bucky thinks sardonically. It's not an image easily forgotten.

"Things look like they're slowing down for the next few weeks," Steve says, throwing him a significant, mischievous look. "If you're finished up here…" he tilts his head to the side, and Bucky sees a glint in Steve’s eye that he’s been missing like crazy for nearly a month. "I have some plans. If you've made up your mind."

Bucky sighs. He doesn’t know what it is with Steve lately. It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’

"Goddamn it, Steve, why do you want my fist up your ass?" Bucky growls in frustration. His voice echoes a little too loudly over their splashing boots.

Steve just smirks.

"Okay, okay, just think about it," Steve says. He trails off as they reach a ladder that leads to a metal hatch at the surface.

They reach the top of the tunnel within minutes, Clint pulling the hatch aside and climbing up first. Bucky is right behind him. Steve waves them away as he shoves the iron door shut with a _clang!_ The distant rumblings of the ensuing underground explosion echo around the empty field.

"Don't worry, Barnes," Clint says, clapping Bucky on the back as they run towards the quinjet, "I know it looks scary, but fisting doesn't really hurt. Just make sure you use enough lube."

"Thanks, Barton," he scowls. Clint laughs as he climbs into the pilot's seat.

*

Steve blows him in the shower that night, holding Bucky's hips against the tiled bathroom wall until he comes down Steve's throat.

"You still thinking about my arm?" Bucky pants, resting his head against the wet tile. Steve steps into the hot spray of the shower, the water running down his back. He meets Bucky's eye.

"Been thinking about your hand since you left," Steve says, his own hand trailing down to his dick. He starts jerking himself off, looking at Bucky with blown eyes. "How slick it feels. How cool. How–"

"How it feels inside," Bucky breathes, stepping forward and setting his left metal hand over Steve's on his cock. It's warm from the hot shower water, closer to skin temperature than usual.

"You haven't – you usually use your – right hand," Steve groans as Bucky jerks him off slowly, water and pre-come running over his metal hand. "I'd like to feel – more."

"Can't just settle for a few fingers?" Bucky asks. Steve thrusts his hips into Bucky's hand, gasping.

"More –" Steve manages with a groan.

"Ever done it before?" Bucky asks, quickening his pace. Steve's breath catches in the back of his throat, a telltale sign that he's moments from coming. Steve's mostly blocking Bucky from the shower, but it sprays off him and onto Bucky. The water drips down his hand.

"A – few times."

"How did it feel?" Bucky whispers.

"Damn good," Steve gasps, coming into Bucky's metal hand.

When he finishes, Steve steps forward and wraps his arms around Bucky, kissing him, reveling in their closeness. Bucky flicks the water from his metal hand.

"We gotta talk about this properly," Steve says after a few moments. He pulls away in time to catch Bucky's eyeroll. "I'm serious. When we aren't fighting or fucking."

With a laugh, Bucky turns off the water.

"If we're talking about how you want me to fuck you, good luck with the second one," he says.

*

"…It's just, I don't know, I'd hate to hurt you," Bucky says with a frown. Bucky’s stretched out on the bed, watching Steve put on his costume for an Avengers event he has to attend . "That arm's done enough damage for a lifetime."

"So it's not a question of ability," Steve says. "Or desire."

"C'mon," Bucky laughs, "you think I've been able to get that mental image out of my head since you brought it up?"

Steve chuckles darkly. He looks over his shoulder and meets Bucky’s eyes with a self-congratulatory smirk.

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky says, "laugh it up, you smug asshole. Or, should I say, snug asshole."

"We would work up to it," Steve says, turning and sliding his cowl over his head, buckling it under his chin. "I mean, at the rate my muscles heal, it’ll have to be on a smaller timescale. Work up to it that morning with bigger toys, maybe. How'd you feel about trying a few fingers alongside your dick?"

" _Jesus_ , Steve," Bucky groans, lying back on the bed. He can feel himself getting hard, watching Steve buckle the last of the straps on his uniform. "Can you not talk about my dick while you're – while you're wearing that?"

Finished dressing, Steve turns around and strides across the room, oozing confidence. The red, white, and blue should look ridiculous, but Bucky has always thought it looked regal. Noble. Sexy as hell.

"Didn't know you liked my uniform _that much_ ," Steve says, stopping in front of Bucky and crossing his arms, smiling smugly. "You could fist me while I wear it. Or, you could wear–"

"Please stop talking," Bucky groans, grabbing onto a strap to pull Steve down for a kiss.

"I have to leave in twenty minutes," Steve says a moment later, turning away and heading to the bedroom door.

"That's in twenty minutes," Bucky says, standing up from the bed and cornering Steve against the door. He reaches up and unbuckles the cowl, pulling it off and throwing it onto the floor. Bucky drops to his knees. "We've got some time to kill."

When he unzips Steve's trousers, it's _Steve’s_ turn to groan and swear.

*

_Of fucking course,_ Bucky gets in another firefight the next day. He ends up sprawled on the ground, his metal arm twitching from the EMP disc stuck to it.

Bucky smashes his arm against the concrete, crushing the EMP. Swearing, he gets to his feet. His metal arm hangs down limply.

"You alright, James?" Natasha asks, throwing him a new gun.

"My arm's out of commission," Bucky grunts, taking the gun with his right hand. "It's fried."

"Damn," Natasha sighs. "I'll cover your left side."

Together, they take down the remaining attackers. Bucky does well despite the dead weight hanging at his side. They're relatively uninjured by the time they emerge from the fight. Natasha radios in for a pickup.

"D'you think Stark's in the Tower?" Bucky asks, frowning at his arm.

"Probably, I think he's in the workshop," Natasha says, typing something into her communicator. "You seem eager to fix that arm up. Got any fun plans for it?"

Bucky fixes her with a glare. "It was Barton, wasn't it?" he sighs.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," she says, smirking to herself as she climbs into the car that pulls up to the curb.

A few hours later, he's inside the workshop at Avengers Tower, sitting in a chair as Tony Stark pokes at the mechanics of his arm.

"Jeez, for some Cold War tech, this is pretty advanced," Stark says, literally poking the arm with a metal stick. Bucky glares.

"It's been updated over the years," Bucky says. He can't help squirming in the chair a little. "Do you think you can fix it?"

"Well," Tony says, "it's shorted out and I'll have to replace most of the wiring, not counting fixing superficial repairs, but a new arm will take me a day at lea–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you mean, _a new arm_?" Bucky asks, frowning.

"This tech saw its heyday the same time as _The Beatles_ ," Stark snorts. "You'll need a new one." Bucky's mouth thins into a firm line.

"I don't want a new one," he says. "I don't need a new one. This one is fine. It just needs some repairs."

"But, seriously, you'd be amazed with all of the advancements they've made in the past few years. It'll be skin-temperature, super-sensitive, and I can camouflage it to match–"

"No," Bucky says firmly. "It's my arm. It's not a toy." Stark sighs in disappointment, but he must catch the look in Bucky's eye, because he nods.

"Alright," he says, pulling up a stool and some tools. "It'll take me a few hours, you can leave if you, um, do you mind–?"

Before he can get weird about it, Bucky twists his shoulder in the socket and presses down on the catch, releasing the arm and disconnecting it. He sets it in Tony's lap and stands up, fighting to keep his balance without the heavy weight of the arm.

"You get Netflix here, right?" Bucky asks, heading towards the door.

"Yeah," Stark replies, a grin slowly growing on his face. "Hey, Barnes, you sure you don't want an upgrade? I can make it vibrate – my gift to you and Rogers."

Bucky doesn't dignify that with a response.

*

_You OK?_ Steve texts him before he's five minutes into an episode of _House MD._

_If watching reruns while Stark pokes at my arm downstairs is 'Okay,' then sure,_ Bucky texts back after a moment. He's used to typing with his right hand only – his metal fingers don’t work with touch screens – so it isn't a problem.

His phone buzzes a moment later with Steve’s reply. _Did they fry it? Bastards._

_Yeah. I’ll be back late, sry. Don't wait up for me._

_Maybe it'd be worth it ;)_

_Maybe it would be if you didn't get up at the asscrack of dawn._

_You're ruining the mood._

_Maybe cuz I'm not in a good mood,_ Bucky types back, then backspaces it all. It's not fair to take his frustration out on Steve. He’s just trying to cheer Bucky up.

Bucky swipes at his phone, trying to come up with a reply, but he can't get in the spirit. Finally, after Bucky's little '…' has taunted him for a few minutes, Steve replies.

_I was thinking_ , Steve texts, _about safewords._

_How about ‘STOP?’_ Bucky replies.

Steve's lengthy silence is almost palpably sulky.

Chuckling to himself, Bucky sends another message: _I was thinking about what I'm gonna do with that arm when I get it back._

_Were you?_ Steve texts back.

_Yeah. I have some big plans._

_What did you have in mind?_

_Driving myself home and passing out until tomorrow afternoon._

_. . ._

Laughing to himself, Bucky types back: _Of course, I could always jerk myself off with the metal hand._

_And then what?_ comes Steve's response.

_Wish you were around to watch xoxoxo_

_Fuck you,_ Steve replies immediately.

_You'd fuck me hard, too, after missing out on that. Make me feel it for leaving you out. Slick me up just enough and ride me hard, fuck me into the mattress. Break it if you aren’t careful enough._

_jesus buck_

_You're jerking yourself off right now, aren't you?_ Bucky texts back smugly.

_Tell me what you're going to do with the metal hand_ , Steve replies, an answer all in itself.

_Oh my god_ , Bucky texts back.

_come on bucky please_

_Finger you, nice and slow, until you're begging for me to fuck you properly._

_I don't beg,_ Steve replies.

Bucky bites back a smile as he types: _You will when I'm done with youuygujj_

"You're terrible at sexting," a voice says from behind him, startling his typing. Bucky jumps and turns to see Natasha reading his phone over his shoulder.

"Hey," he protests, holding his phone to his chest. "I'm not."

"You are," Natasha snorts, vaulting over the couch and landing lightly beside him, like a cat. "Stark says you should order pizza, since it'll be a late night." She pauses. "I can drive you back to your and Steve's place if you have, _ahem,_ other plans."

Bucky groans and covers his eyes with his hand. His phone buzzes a few times in his lap.

_natasha interrupted you didn't she_

_she'll tell everyone that captain america sexts_

_fuck fuck fuck_

*

Bucky presses Steve into their apartment door the moment it closes behind the two of them, holding him down with the strength of his bionic arm. He kisses him slowly and roughly, biting his bottom lip. Steve groans into his mouth.

"I've been thinking about ripping these goddamn suspenders off you since I first noticed you were wearing them," Bucky whispers as he pulls away. He tears Steve's suit jacket off his shoulders and throws it in the general vicinity of a chair.

"Which was only about halfway through dessert," Steve says, a twinkle in his eye as Bucky grabs Steve's suspenders and pulls him flush up against his body. "Try again."

"I've been thinking about ripping your goddamn clothes off since I woke up this morning?" he tries. "All I think about anymore is ripping your goddamn clothes off."

"Better," Steve mutters, leaning forwards and sucking at a spot on Bucky's neck. He gasps at the wet heat of Steve's tongue.

"Fuck," Bucky groans. "Permission to rip your goddamn clothes off?"

"Not yet, soldier," Steve says. He kisses Bucky, pushing him backwards towards their bedroom. Bucky lets himself be pushed back onto the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt, cursing the tiny buttons. He accidentally knocks one off with his fumbling metal fingers.

"Shit," Bucky says, because he hates sewing those back on.

"Worry about it later," Steve says, climbing on top of Bucky on the bed. Bucky trails his left hand down Steve's chest. He squeezes the bulge in the front of Steve's dress pants, savoring the way Steve groans.

The suspenders are leveraged again for Bucky to pull Steve down for a kiss. He pulls Steve's shirttail out of his pants and ducks his metal hand underneath the fabric. Steve hisses. His hand is cold, but Bucky strokes the skin of Steve's stomach until the metal has warmed up.

"I think the suspenders are staying on," Bucky says, unbuttoning Steve's trousers.

"As long as something gets off," Steve groans. Bucky laughs, kissing him hard, panting into Steve's mouth, teasing his hand at Steve's waistband before he finally presses it into his boxers, his hand –

"AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!"

"Fucking hell," Steve curses as his Avengers ID card goes off.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bucky groans as Steve climbs off him, heading towards his closet for his costume. "No, shit – Steve, get back here, they don't need you, they've got Iron Man and Hulk and – fuck it. My dick needs you more than the Avengers."

"If you're going to talk like that," Steve says, throwing off his date clothes and quickly pulling on his Captain America uniform, "I'm going to make you suit up and help."

"Kinky," Bucky says. "Y'know, Cap, if I thought you were into a little roleplay, I'd have –" he stops as Steve leans forward to kiss him breathless, dragging his teeth over Bucky's bottom lip, holding him fast with a gloved fistful of Bucky's hair. After a long moment, he pulls away and heads for the door.

"What the hell was that, Steve?" Bucky yells after him.

"Just a little something to remember me by," Steve calls over his shoulder with a wink. The door slams shut behind him.

"Goddamn jerk," Bucky mutters, lying back and staring up at the ceiling. He's still hard, but there's no way he's going to be able to jerk off while Steve's out there fighting god-knows-what. _"Fuck."_

*

“Extraction’s in eighteen hours,” Bucky says as he walks into the bedroom of his safehouse. Steve has stripped down to his pants already in preparation for a shower. He’s currently rummaging around in the nightstand.

“Why do you keep so much lube in your safehouses?” Steve says, pulling out and considering a red bottle. “Hm,” he mutters. “Apple flavored.”

“Gimme that,” Bucky says, stepping forward to snatch the lube out of Steve’s hand. He looks down at it, and, what do you know? It _is_ apple flavored. “Huh. Didn’t know they made apple.”

“Is the shower here big enough for two people?” Steve asks, looking towards the bathroom.

“We narrowly escaped certain death less than an hour ago and you’re already thinking about me sucking your dick?” Bucky snorts. “Really?”

“Actually, I was thinking about whether or not this lube would be easy to clean out of the joints of your hand,” Steve shrugs. “But if you’re offering to suck me off, too, I’ll take it.”

“Christ, Steve,” Bucky said, his hand going to his forehead. “We’re getting picked up at nineteen hundred hours.”

“Exactly,” Steve smiles. “We’ve got time to kill.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. It’s not that he wouldn’t like to spend his downtime with Steve – well, getting _down –_ but he _likes_ giving Steve a hard time. It stops the guy from getting a big head.

“I thought we were gonna work up to it,” Bucky says. He cocks his head to the side as he approaches Steve. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, knees spread so Bucky can stand between them. Bucky looks down and strokes his bionic hand through Steve’s hair.

“We’ve _been_ working up to it,” Steve says. His voice sounds dark and heavy with lust. “Or, just to be sure,” he pauses, licking his lips, “we could spend the next few _hours_ working up to it.”

Bucky swallows down a groan. His metal fingers card through the Steve’s hair for another moment before he trails them down the side of Steve’s face. Bucky cups Steve’s chin and rests his thumb on Steve’s lips.

“Sure you can handle it?” Bucky asks one final time. He strokes Steve’s bottom lip with the metal and watches Steve’s pupils grow dark black.

“Oh,” Steve says, a glint in his eye. “It’s not _me_ I’m worried about.”

*

Bucky used to wonder (a long time ago, during the war, when he was too chicken to ask) what the supersoldier serum did to Steve’s dick. He knew, objectively, that the serum was for – oh, fuck it. There was _nothing_ objective in the way he thought about Steve’s dick.

Steve is the peak of human perfection, so of course he has a refractory period that’s six times faster than the average human, even faster than Bucky’s enhancements made _him_. Bucky still hasn’t figured out how to ask how much the serum made his dick grow, or if Steve walked around with that swinging between his legs when he was a five foot four beanpole. (Bucky thinks he might actually die if Steve said it was the latter.)

Bucky fingers Steve in the shower, using the lube Steve so _thoughtfully_ set out next to the soap (which they used first to carefully clean Bucky’s metal arm). Far too son, they run out of hot water, and Bucky ends up fucking Steve against the sink.

Later, Bucky blows Steve on the couch, working up to three fingers before Steve comes in his mouth. Steve kisses him roughly, hungrily, pressing him down into the couch pillows. Before Bucky knows it, Steve has him lubed up and sits on his dick, urging Bucky to work a few extra fingers in, too. (After that, Bucky _maybe_ has to go take a nap and a break. Maybe.)

He wakes up to Steve fucking himself on four of his own fingers, and then, and _then_ –

“Just do it,” Steve moans desperately. He squirms on the white sheets of the bed, his chest heaving, slicked with sweat and flushed from exertion. Bucky looks up from where he was sucking a hickey into Steve’s thigh and meets his eyes. His eyelids flutter shut as Bucky’s grip shifts on his ass. “God, Buck, please. I need you.”

“You sure? I could do this all day,” Bucky says, suddenly realizing how wrecked his voice sounds. He gives Steve a smug grin.

“Dammit, Bucky,” Steve growls. “I’m sure. I can take it.”

“Let me know if it hurts,” Bucky says seriously.

“I like the burn.”

“If it _bad_ hurts,” Bucky says, pausing to give Steve a look. “Don’t play the hero; you do enough of that already. Tell me to stop or slow down if you need to.”

“What if I said ‘speed up’?” Steve complains.

Bucky rolls his eyes. He sits up and looks around on the bed to see if he can locate the lube. He’d sworn that it was just at his elbow a moment ago, but he also thought he’d propped Steve up on some pillows a few minutes ago.

They’ve made a mess of the sheets, so Bucky throws the tangle of bedclothes onto the floor until he find the bottle of lube. Ignoring Steve’s protest about the sheets, he kneels between Steve’s legs.

Steve is laid out on the bed on his back, his cock hard against the tight muscles of his stomach, his eyes scrunched shut. Bucky’s hard, too. He strokes himself lightly to relieve some of the pressure, and then sits back on his heels between Steve’s legs.

“You gonna get on with it?” Steve says, cracking an eye open to look up at Bucky. A moment later, he bites his already-swollen bottom lip when Bucky runs his robotic hand up the inside of Steve’s thigh. The metal is cool, but Steve’s body is hot. Steve’s skin warms his hand as he strokes around Steve’s asshole. It’s loose and wet enough from lube that Bucky just lets his finger slide inside Steve, easy as anything.

Compared to what  Steve’s been taking, one finger is nothing, but he still moans and bucks his hips upwards. Laughing, Bucky twists his finger around once and pulls it out.

“God, you’re eager,” Bucky says in a low voice.

“Really?” Steve asks dryly. “What gave it away?”

Laughing, Bucky lubes up the fingers of the cybernetic hand (trying hard _not_ to think about cleaning out the joints later).

“Oh, that feels good,” Steve groans when Bucky works two fingers inside him. He grinds his hips down. “I want more.”

“Slow down, pal, do you want this to be over too soon?” Bucky asks with a laugh. “Who knows, maybe I’m the kind of guy who’d go extra slow, just to torture you.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Steve snorts. “No, by all means, go as slow as you like. You can always fuck my throat raw in a few hours, instead. Or maybe, since we got our costumes with us–” Bucky bites back an embarrassing noise and wraps a hand around his dick. He isn’t going to be able to stay focused if he can’t find a way to make Steve shut up. And, from the smug and teasing look on Steve’s face, the asshole _knows it._ He’s goading Bucky.

Bucky slowly works another finger into Steve.

“Steve,” he commands roughly, “fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Steve lets out a strangled moan. He follows orders immediately; Steve grinds down on Bucky’s fingers, rolls his hips, and fists his hands in the sheet covering the bed. Bucky curls his fingers and Steve almost _shouts._ His hips stutter upwards, his back arching as he thrusts down on Bucky’s fingers.

“Good boy,” Bucky says smugly. “It’s nice to have you finally listen to me, for once.”

Steve gasps, “Fuck you,” followed by a loud groan.

“It’s far too easy to come up with a comeback for that,” Bucky sighs. He compensates by slipping a fourth finger into Steve.

Steve keens. He stops thrusting, apparently unable to accomplish higher motor functions, but his body writhes on the wrinkled sheets. His knuckles turn white as he balls his hands into fists.

“Bucky –“ he breaks off, gasping for air. Bucky licks his lips as he looks up at Steve and meets his eye. “Bucky,” Steve repeats, his muscles clenching around Bucky’s wet fingers. “Buck, god, you feel so – oh, _fuck,_ ” he curses.

“It isn’t too cold?” Bucky asks tenderly. “Does it hurt?”

“God, no, it feels so—“ Steve breaks off into a groan, “—damn _good_.”

When Bucky curls his fingers and sinks them further into Steve, he feels Steve’s muscles relax and give. Steve starts thrusting down on Bucky’s hand again, muttering curses all the while. Bucky’s down to his knuckles when Steve breaks off into a fresh burst of moans, nearly shouting Bucky’s name.

“Steve?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not gonna – I’m not gonna make it, Buck,” Steve says, eyelids fluttering. “Fuck, it’s too much. Damn it, I wanted –“ Bucky stills and starts to pull out. “Don’t stop,” Steve says, but it lacks any real command. “God, I’m so close—“

“Steve,” Bucky says in a low voice. “Stop. Look at me.”

Steve obeys. He takes in a deep, ragged breath and locks eyes with Bucky.

“Do you want this?” Bucky asks.

“I – Oh, god, more than anything,” Steve groans. “But I’m going to come, Buck, and I wanted it all, I wanted the whole damn _fist—_ “ Bucky’s dick throbs just watching Steve throw his head back. He’s never seen him like this, so desperate to come, so wrecked.

“Shhh,” Bucky quiets him. “Steve,” he says in a challenging tone. “Are you really telling me you’re not going to make it when I’m _one finger away_? Come on. If anyone can take this fist, it’s Captain America. But, if you don’t think you can…” he trails off, punctuating the end of his sentence by slowly sliding his fingers out of Steve.

Bucky watches Steve’s jaw tighten. He takes a deep breath.

“No,” Steve snaps, “don’t you dare. I can take it.”

Biting back a smile, Bucky slides back into Steve, carefully dipping his thumb under the rim of Steve’s asshole.

Steve doesn’t thrust this time, just lies boneless as Bucky slides in past the knuckle and stops.

Bucky can hear his heart beating in his ears. Feeling in his robotic arm isn’t quite like his flesh arm, but it’s enough. He feels wet heat and pressure, the throbbing of Steve’s body under his hand, the way Steve shakes as he gasps for sweet breath.

Slowly, Bucky pushes in up to his wrist.

“How are you doing, Steve?” he asks.

“Fine, thanks,” Steve says petulantly, but it comes out breathless. Bucky grins.

He wonders if Steve can feel the slow mechanical whir of his joints as he curls his fingers down into his palm, over his thumb.

“T-that’s not how you’re supposed to make a fist, Bucky,” Steve stutters out.

“Really?” Bucky sighs dryly.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. Thumb _over_ the fingers,” Steve corrects him. “Angle the knuckles on the inside of your fist out. You’re less likely to break them.”

“Must’ve had a shitty teacher, then,” Bucky mutters as he slowly corrects his fist, even though he _knows_ how to throw a punch.

Steve’s reply is lost in his moan. Bucky slowly begins to twist his wrist back and forth, testing the way Steve stretches and gives under his hand. Gently, he drives his fist forward.

“Jesus _fucking_ hell, Bucky,” Steve shouts.   

“You don’t say,” Bucky grins. He pulls his hand back to the edge of his wrist. The lube has run down his arm, slicking up the smooth metal and dripping down into the joints. (Bucky mentally curses; it’ll take _forever_ to clean it all out.)

When he pushes in again, he starts up a slow rhythm. Steve keens. His fingers clutch desperately at the sheets, his toes curling, ass clenching around Bucky’s metal wrist. Bucky watches Steve’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows down a garbled mix of curses.

“Shh, you’re okay, I got you,” Bucky says soothingly, thrusting his fist into Steve’s slick heat. “How does it feel?”

“So – good,” Steve says, punctuated by a loud gasp. “Hard and, you feel so strong. Big. Like – like I’m gonna burst.” The arm’s cybernetics whirr as Bucky picks up the pace.

“You feel good,” Bucky hums, wrapping his other hand around his own dick. He bets if he touched Steve right now, he’d come in an instant. His cock is hard and flushed, pre-come leaking down the flat planes of his stomach. Bucky doesn’t move to touch him. He wants to see Steve come untouched.

“You feel _better_ ,” Steve groans. “Your _hand_ , Bucky, _god._ It’s perfect.”

He lapses into babbles as Bucky speeds up, thrusting his hand harder and faster. Bucky feels like he’s punching Steve, drawing pleasure out of him instead of pain. Steve’s hips roll a little to meet the hard metal of his hand. He moves like he wants to take all of Bucky, all Bucky’s got and more, and Bucky bites back a dozen curses at the thought.

Steve’s mouth opens with a silent moan. His lips, bitten to a dark pink, fall apart as he cries out. His voice is edged with something dark and desperate.

“Bucky,” Steve pleads, “Bucky, _please_.”

Bucky doesn’t realize he’s been holding back until his fist thrusts harder. Steve nearly sobs in relief. His breath begins to catch in the back of his throat and he’s close, _so close_ , and it’s up to Bucky now. Bucky twists his wrist, punching into Steve.

Steve nearly _screams_ – his hips arch off the bed, his muscles clench around Bucky’s fist – and finally comes.

Bucky strokes Steve’s thigh with his right hand and helps him through his orgasm. Steve shakes underneath the touch as he comes down gasping. His head falls back on a pillow and he goes limp against the sheets.

“God, Bucky,” Steve murmurs hoarsely to the ceiling.

Slowly, Bucky slides his wrist out of Steve’s ass. He uncurls his fist and lets his fingers go slack to pull them from Steve with care. Steve whimpers at the oversensitivity but doesn’t protest.

Bucky wipes his robotic hand on the sheets in resignation – they’ve ripped them somehow, anyways. He’s about to reach down and finally, _finally_ take care of his own erection when Steve grabs a handful of his hair and hauls him up gently for a kiss. Bucky goes slack jawed in surprise. Steve kisses him deeply, skates a hand down over his stomach, and takes Bucky’s dick in his hand.

Between Steve, wet and naked underneath him, and the memory of what he’s just done fresh in his mind, it doesn’t take long. Bucky’s orgasm washes over him all too soon. He comes over Steve’s hand, groaning into Steve’s mouth all the while. After a moment, he falls back onto the pillows beside Steve to stare at the plaster ceiling.

“Holy shit,” Bucky sighs, once he’s caught his breath.

“Mhm,” Steve groans in agreement. His cheat is still heaving.

“That was,” Bucky clears his throat. “That sure was something.”

“Mhhm,” Steve hums. Bucky turns his head to look at Steve. He looks beautiful where he lays on the ruined white sheets, his hair sticking up at all angles.

“Did I break you?” Bucky smirks, rolling over to sling a – somewhat sticky – arm around Steve’s chest.

“Hrumph,” Steve replies intelligently. Bucky laughs. He presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“We need to get cleaned up,” Bucky says reluctantly, closing his eyes. “Extraction’s in five hours.”

“Sleep,” Steve murmurs. He hooks an arm around Bucky to hold him to his chest.

“Clean-up first,” Bucky sighs, extracting himself from Steve’s grip with some trouble, “then we can sleep.”

Bare-assed, Bucky rolls out of bed to head for the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth.

“Bucky,” Steve says groggily. He reaches out and grabs Bucky’s sticky metal wrist, using it to pull Bucky back to him. Steve kisses Bucky, long and sweet. “Thanks,” he whispers when he pulls away. “Love you.”

“I love you too, you big lug,” Bucky snorts. 

When Bucky returns a moment later with a wet towel, Steve’s already asleep with a stupidly adorable smile on his face.

*

Bucky’s hair is still damp from a last-minute shower when they head up to the roof for their extraction. An Avengers Quinjet hovers over their (now compromised) safehouse’s apartment building. Clint opens the hatch when he sees them and lets a rope ladder swing down from the Quinjet’s hatch. Steve lets Bucky climb up first.

“I see someone had a nice vacation,” Natasha smirks from the pilot’s seat when Bucky climbs into the Quinjet.

“You call getting shot at for a week a _vacation_?” Bucky snorts. Natasha glances pointedly at his metal arm, not having missed a thing. Bucky fights the urge not to be stupid and _blush_ over it – he’d not quite been able to wash all of the lube out of the joints of his arm.

“I’d hi-five you,” Clint says from the other pilot seat, “but I honestly don’t want to touch your arm right now. Or ever again.”

“Fuck you too, Barton,” Bucky frowns, flipping him off with said cybernetic hand. Steve, just having pulled himself into the Quinjet, hits the button to close the hatch behind him.

“Now, now, boys, play nice,” Steve says with a fond smile.

Oddly enough, Clint takes one look at Cap and blushes bright _red_ before he turns back to the controls, muttering to himself. Bucky smirks. He supposes Barton can’t bring himself tease _Captain America_ about his sex life.

The Quinjet rises into the clouds as Clint and Natasha fly them into the skies. Bucky and Steve exchange grins as they strap into their seats at the back. Finally, Bucky’s ears pop as the Quinjet breaks through the clouds.

A moment later, Steve nudges Bucky with his elbow. When Bucky turns to meet Steve’s gaze, he catches a familiar glint in Steve’s eye.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve says, lowering his voice, “want to join the Mile High Club?”

 

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Porn isn't exactly my strong point, so I'd appreciate any helpful suggestions! Please, be kind. I have feelings.
> 
> Please feel free to join me in crying over Bucky's beautiful arm over on [my Tumblr](http://sarriane.tumblr.com). #butdoesitvibrate?


End file.
